TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS

First of all, today, this is a "woman's only" blog.

Now I mean it -- men, stop reading. Seriously.

HALT. Cease and desist IMMEDIATELY

Okay, listen, if you keep reading this, you will suddenly and irrevocably become completely and TOTALLY GAY!!

Alright.

Now, girls - do you often find yourselves 'doing' things automatically? Like when the grocery sacks are just left empty on the counter, do you begin folding them up? When someone kicks off their shoes, do you pick them up and put them where they belong?

I am constantly amazed at how often I catch myself doing things like this - especially now that I have two men at home. Seems there is a link to the Y chromosome that makes males blind to things like dirty dishes, anything left on the floor, or laundry that is turning green in the washing machine where it has been left for the past two weeks.

I have funded an series of exhaustive scientific double-blinded tests, and determined that leaving the mess alone does absolutely no good - men still don't see it., even if it grows into a group of sentient beings holding up signs saying "TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER."

But I am trying to draw the line somewhere.

So I decided that my husband's dog is going to be his dog - and he will be responsible for her care, feeding, walking, medical care, etc.

And it worked.... for probably fourteen seconds.

I just can't let an animal be punished just because her owner is male. My husband is pretty good about walking her in the morning - when he has time - and wants to - but if her food, water, care, medicine, and mental health were up to him... well, there would be a very thirsty, hungry, sick and unhappy greyhound in our midst.

It does make more sense that I take care of the animal; I don't have a full-time job, I'm at home, etc.

But I am trying to stand firm on who takes her on veterinarian trips.

For one thing, Delilah weighs almost 80 lbs. - and it's a long, skinny, very bony and sharp 80 lbs.
And I drive a pick-up -- not a fancy, extended cab with electric windows, cup holders and an air conditioning that works. No, my baby is a short-bed little Mazda completely-paid-off (i.e. over five years old) bed-full-of-month-hold-hay that gets used a LOT.

The greyhound fills up the cab on her own, so trying to drive while seeing the road between her molars is difficult. My own dog weighs almost as much, but he is compact enough that he simply sits on the passenger side, stares out the window, is extremely polite at drive-thrus and won't even ask to share my Diet Coke.


Delilah, on the other hand, whines and complains and cannot for the life of her understand how to handle turns or braking without falling off the seat or ending up sitting in my lap. She will demand a Sprite of her own at McDonald's, refuse to leave the truck when we get to the vet's, and will only offer an expired Master card for payments.

So I am putting down my feet - no more trips to the vets... at least not next time.